Outsiders
Yes, we got caught by the mess at Midway this past weekend. While in Kansas City on Friday, we learned our flight home had been cancelled, and there were no more flights going into Chicago for...well, they weren't exactly sure. So we decided to drive home. Getting a vehicle was another story...but finally, we had a minivan and we pointed the vehicle north.
Several hours into the trip, we decided to stop for some refreshing ice cream or caffeine or, ideally, a combination of both. Right on the shores of the Mississippi River was the town of Hannibal, Missouri, hometown of one Samuel Clemens...better known as Mark Twain. We drove into the little "historic" downtown area where every business is set to look like something or is named after something from one of Twain's books. It was cute, clean...and closed. Well, most of it was. Most importantly, Becky Thatcher's Ice Cream Shoppe was closed up tight. Apparently, everything except for the bars closes at 6 and we arrived at 6:15.
So we pulled up to a parking spot on the curb and decided we should at least get out and walk. Five of us got out of a minivan that had Texas plates, and it was immediately obvious we were outsiders. Heads literally turned to stare our way. Conversations that had been happening on the sidewalk and in the nearby cafe ended. And when we found a coffee shop that was open, and also served ice cream, a man who passed us on the way in mumbled, "There must have been a bus come in town." Really? There were five of us. That constitutes a "bus-full"?
Immediately, we all knew we didn't belong and weren't really wanted there. And, as many things do, it made me think of some church settings I've been in. Maybe you have, too. Have you ever walked in and immediately people stared at you? Or conversations stopped? Have you ever been in a church where no one tried to help you or ask you if there was any way they could direct you to what you were looking for? If you haven't, you probably haven't visited many churches beyond your own. So let me ask it this way: what happens when an "outsider" comes to your church?
There are a lot of folks who would come to church—your church, my church—if they were asked and if they felt like they were welcomed. No one wants to feel like an outsider. No one wants to be stared out and made to know they don't belong. We want to be welcomed, included. We want to feel like we're wanted. So, do me a favor...make sure you're about the business of welcoming all those who are outsiders.
That's what Jesus did, after all. He welcomed and even ate with strangers and sinners. He was called a glutton and a drunkard just because of the company he kept. He loved the least, the last and the lost. And so should we. So must we. In this generation where so many want to be loved and want to belong, the church is missing our opportunity to do what we should do better than anyone else: welcome the outsider with grace and mercy.
Several hours into the trip, we decided to stop for some refreshing ice cream or caffeine or, ideally, a combination of both. Right on the shores of the Mississippi River was the town of Hannibal, Missouri, hometown of one Samuel Clemens...better known as Mark Twain. We drove into the little "historic" downtown area where every business is set to look like something or is named after something from one of Twain's books. It was cute, clean...and closed. Well, most of it was. Most importantly, Becky Thatcher's Ice Cream Shoppe was closed up tight. Apparently, everything except for the bars closes at 6 and we arrived at 6:15.
So we pulled up to a parking spot on the curb and decided we should at least get out and walk. Five of us got out of a minivan that had Texas plates, and it was immediately obvious we were outsiders. Heads literally turned to stare our way. Conversations that had been happening on the sidewalk and in the nearby cafe ended. And when we found a coffee shop that was open, and also served ice cream, a man who passed us on the way in mumbled, "There must have been a bus come in town." Really? There were five of us. That constitutes a "bus-full"?
Immediately, we all knew we didn't belong and weren't really wanted there. And, as many things do, it made me think of some church settings I've been in. Maybe you have, too. Have you ever walked in and immediately people stared at you? Or conversations stopped? Have you ever been in a church where no one tried to help you or ask you if there was any way they could direct you to what you were looking for? If you haven't, you probably haven't visited many churches beyond your own. So let me ask it this way: what happens when an "outsider" comes to your church?
There are a lot of folks who would come to church—your church, my church—if they were asked and if they felt like they were welcomed. No one wants to feel like an outsider. No one wants to be stared out and made to know they don't belong. We want to be welcomed, included. We want to feel like we're wanted. So, do me a favor...make sure you're about the business of welcoming all those who are outsiders.
That's what Jesus did, after all. He welcomed and even ate with strangers and sinners. He was called a glutton and a drunkard just because of the company he kept. He loved the least, the last and the lost. And so should we. So must we. In this generation where so many want to be loved and want to belong, the church is missing our opportunity to do what we should do better than anyone else: welcome the outsider with grace and mercy.
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